the anguish in the Garden
shatters this sublime King
‘May this cup pass from me’
in the nausea of silence
seized by the nothingness
of his own project, the man
ingests his beautiful poison
given to him by his mother

The window is open again, suddenly

in this moment

the event shines, scintillates

hums & frenzies a rhythm
shatters these stale drones
of our invisible totalitarianism
we no longer even hear the digital
coxswain pound out the proper beat

the coup d’etat happened long ago —

it was all covered up –
Judas, Jesus’ brother
took the hit, like a good son
Saul, their distant uncle, came
home to set up the franchises

what is it
to be a ‘friend’
on Orwell’s telescreen
in cyberspace –
surveillance machine –
goose-stepping into
smokey backroom
torture chambers
this ecstatic lust
hallucinates
as we hide
behind masks,
flesh… ghosts
are you a girl or a boy?
are you 16 or 60?
then again, does it matter?
as – disregarding any
sense or notion that any authority
has any legitimacy or esteem –
we are suspended over an abyss
it is only our desire
that keeps us from falling
into Nothingness

if you wish to dance you must lift your feet off this ground ……. offf off up & away… put down that shovel…

do not get sucked in seduced by candy coated mystery…

this lying clown burps out love… that right hand stabs your sacred heart… this left hand knows not what… she says to me not to be seduced… & i say it to you… yet, now you are here… you waited in line from that eventful bog moonrise steams primordial soupkitchen… so now your on this ride…. get ready to get off at your end… enjoy this ride…. you will get no other… its goinna happen… this opening closes with you… as far as is seen known etc.etc… anything else demands this sacrifice, my lucre lies elsewhere…

whirl frenetic leaves dance

quiver frigid lash winds brush

strokes choke release void displace

opening light closing these eyes opens these those these this each opening erupts joyous swirls darkness

feel your body grasp your self this body rub your breast heal neck face this wound dance across against around your calf you now this you right here this one from all you cannot look away to that other

To negotiate a new social contract
in a deeply traumatised and fractured society
within less than seven months is hard enough
to do so in a third that time is
virtually impossible, the report said.
An Israeli aircraft has fired three missiles
at Palestinian resistance fighters
in the Gaza Strip without causing any casualties
Witnesses said three fighters from the
Islamic group Hamas fled as the missiles struck
No one was hurt.
A rocket and mortar barrage by fighters
hours later killed two Palestinian farmers
and a Chinese labourer working
at a Jewish settlement in Gaza
Iraqi soldiers taken captive

As is, It has not fallen – or, at least that America of the current brand illusion has not yet fallen.

We can read Ginsberg as indicating the end of summer, if there ever was one.

We still even await this rite of spring – perhaps we have wasted the dawn.

The fall, in the case of America, is the beginning of retreat and implosion.

It reminds one of an end of every order of things.

In the case of America, the early winter forces us to recollect the trauma of its birth and sustenance, and the lack thereof, in the land of the free and the home of the brave.

The American experiment failed as it could never realize its democratic potential – it remained res publica – killed by the autonomous logics of representation which danced upon the waves of a violence-based ownership (Gewalteigenthum).

America could never trust itself as it was afflicted with the trauma of its origin – a trauma which underwent recurrent repetition in the trauma of its logistical operation.

America was possessed by a Lady Macbeth Complex in which it sought, sleepwalking, to wash away the blood on its hands – “Out damned spot!” – it failed in its compensating strategy as it used new blood to wash off old blood.

America’s obsession with its own guilt translated in real terms into a compulsion to act, to build – to bury – its frenetic production and consumption of gunpowder and soap – a psychosis of exclusion and purification (perfection).

In more contemporary terms, this compulsion for cleanliness has translated into a panoptic surveillance of the territory and personnel of “America”, i.e., “Patriot” Act.

As with the Nazis, “America” seeks, as a repetition of the trauma, to expunge, excrete from itself that which is non-American – a term defined tentatively from the “origin”.

Explains why so many Asian and Middle Eastern peoples are fleeing to the Canadian border to escape the surveillance and incarceration of American Justice.

This fixation upon cleanliness and hygiene in this way may also reflect the white supremacist character of e pluribus unum, once again, a repetition of its trauma.

Then again, e pluirbus unum was replaced by In God We Trust in the 20th Century.

And they dare to call it a godless century! Shame on you Nietzsche!

We are confronted by a situation in which, against all counsel, “America” has become an Empire.

Yet, it is clear that the announcement, the naming of an event, is also the sign and oration of its demise.

Indeed, this demise is a second death as one imago, ideal is replaced by another.